As the Wheel Turns
by CrimsonSnapDragon
Summary: The lives of two, wellbred young women are about to change drastically. For they will soon be forced to strike a deal with an infamous pirate captain to survive and he will soon use them to his advantage in a deadly game. But the joke's on him, too...
1. The Plan Takes Shape

DISCLAIMER: PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN IS NOT MINE. I DO NOT CLAIM RIGHTS.  
  
Just in case you're wondering, the names are pronounced:  
  
Marguerite Delacy (Mar-ger-eet Deh-lace-ee) Nickname: Maggie  
  
and  
  
Charlotte Clare (Shar-lot Kl-air) Nickname: Lottie  
  
Also, ch.1 and the beginning of ch.2 are a bit boring, I know. But I'm setting the stage so that you get to know the characters. Jack will come into play by the end of ch.2, I SWEAR!  
  
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CHARLOTTE'S P.O.V.  
  
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"Charlotte! Charlotte!" Marguerite's voice rang out across the grounds. I looked up and saw her running towards me, skirts flying wildly. She was receiving many incredulous stares from the court ladies, but, as usual, she paid them no heed.  
  
"What is it, Marguerite?" I questioned, laying down my stitching.  
  
"Mr. McCain is going on a trip!" She squealed, landing in front of me with a bounce.  
  
Had I been a dog, I suppose that my ears would have pricked forward with interest. "Truly? What are you on about?" I pressed. She grinned broadly and sat down on the bench beside me.  
  
"I'm talking about adventure!" She chattered excitedly. "You, me, the high seas-the world!" She exclaimed at the top of her lungs. More people stared, and I gave them a nervous smile.  
  
"Keep your voice down, Marguerite!" I hissed.  
  
"Nonsense." She brushed me off. "I've already arranged the whole deal with Mr. McCain-you know what a nice man he is." She continued, her hands flying about wildly in the air. She had a tendency to talk with them when she was very pleased. All of the court ladies thought it was a disgrace. But then, they didn't much care for Marguerite in the first place, so I suppose it didn't matter.  
  
"He said that he only had room on his boat for one of us," She babbled on.  
  
"One? Oh, you go Marguerite. You're so much more adventurous than I and..."  
  
"Be quiet!" She interrupted me. "You're not letting me finish!" She laughed. "Anyway, I told Mr. McCain that you could have the last cabin, and that I would sleep below deck."  
  
"Marguerite! You are a noble lady! You do not sleep below deck!" I blurted out.  
  
"Will you just let me finish!?" She bellowed exasperatedly. I sighed and waved my hand for her to continue.  
  
"Well," She cleared her throat. "Mr. McCain said that very same thing, but I came up with a solution for that problem too!" She smiled. "I told him that his crew probably wasn't going to be partial to two women aboard, as they have this silly notion that it brings bad luck. So you could pose as Mr. McCain's niece, and they'd have to accept you. And =I= could be your servant who accompanies you on the trip!" She finished.  
  
My mind was racing. So much was wrong with this plan. Sure, the part about myself acting as Mr. McCain's niece was genius, but Marguerite-dressed as a boy and playing the part of my servant? No. That was too risky-too hard! If she slipped up even slightly, it could mean a mutiny for generous Mr. McCain.  
  
"Marguerite...I'm not sure. I think that this is just another one of your silly schemes." I admitted.  
  
She set her think, pink lips in a pout. "Charlotttttttte!" She whined. "Everything's already been arranged! Mr. McCain has a crew assembled, a boat ready, your cabin is prepared, our luggages are packed..."  
  
"Our trunks are already set!?" I gaped. She nodded, an ever-growing smile plastered on her face, her china blue eyes dancing. I sighed. She was hard to resist. And if the baggage was all set to go...  
  
"All right." I gave in.  
  
"Yes!" She cheered, thrusting a triumphant fist into the air. I quickly grabbed her wrist, and pulled her arm back down, glancing around to make sure that no one had seen her unladylike behavior.  
  
"Wait a moment," A thought struck me.  
  
"What?"  
  
"What are our parents going to say? My mother and father aren't going to be partial to the idea of me sailing on..."  
  
"Oh Charlotte, for goodness sake!" She hollered. "Didn't I tell you that everything was already worked out? Mr. McCain is a highly respected figure of society, and he's already had a talk with our parents. He told them that he was going on an educational expedition and he would be thoroughly pleased if you and I would join him. Our parents readily agreed, of course, because they thought it an honor for such a high class man to invite us along." She informed me.  
  
"Obviously they don't know that you're going to be traveling as a boy then." I sighed.  
  
"Of course they don't!" She agreed. "They think that this is just going to be a little trip for us."  
  
"And it's not?" I asked.  
  
"No!" She shrieked. "It's an adventure! Do you even know where we're =going=!?"  
  
"Of course I don't. You haven't told me."  
  
"We'll be traveling in the Caribbean!" She announced.  
  
My jaw went slack. Several colonies of England had been thriving in the Caribbean for the last few years. All of the reports said that it was the most beautiful place-sun, clear blue waters, and a fair climate. The Caribbean was a place you could only dream about...  
  
"What sort of business does Mr. McCain have down in the Caribbean?" I asked.  
  
"Just that-- business," She shrugged. "I think it has something to do with all the exports he's been sending lately. I'm pretty sure he told me that he travels down there every few years to see for himself that everything is in tip-top shape!" She smiled.  
  
"Well then," I picked up my stitching and stood. "When do we leave?"  
  
"Tomorrow morning," She grinned. "I'll meet you down at the docks by Mr. McCain's boat." She stated.  
  
"Which boat is his?" I questioned.  
  
"Actually, it's a rather appropriate name," She chuckled. "The Adventurer."  
  
I smiled widely too. "I'll see you bright and early then! Good day!"  
  
"Goodbye!"  
  
I turned and began walking in the other direction, holding up my skirts and stitching with one hand, and my parasol with the other.  
  
Marguerite, however, strolled through the streets without a shade. It was sort of miraculous, really, that she could go without a cover, and still remain fashionably pale. Not surprisingly, she also allowed her blue dress drag behind her. Her golden hair, as always, was unbound and flowing freely about her shoulders. The fact that she didn't allow it to grow to her thin waist, and then pin it upon her head earned her many scornful remarks. She was a free spirit-- and that was putting it politely.  
  
The court and officials thought she was a humility and embarrassment to all of England. Women simply weren't so outspoken. I shook my head. Marguerite couldn't care less what anyone thought of her, and she'd told them so herself on several occasions.  
  
A handful of times, the noble ladies had come up to me and told me that they pitied me. They said that it was a shame that her parents and mine were such good friends-it made my family look bad to be associating with them.  
  
Marguerite's parents were upper class, but most people frowned on them because they let their daughter act the way she did. In truth, I doubt they even very much realized that they had a daughter. They let her stroll wherever she wished, and the only restriction that they put on her was to wear a dress. Otherwise, they basically ignored her.  
  
My family, on the other hand, was highly respected. My father had grown very wealthy in the fishing industry, and married my mother, who came from good breeding. When I was born, they drilled ever last manner and courtesy into my head, and I was severely punished if I ever forgot them.  
  
I knew Marguerite because her father worked with mine. They had practically grown up together, and had thusly started the industry as partners.  
  
But as I mentioned, her father was so much more lax than mine.  
  
It didn't surprise me, either, that Mr. McCain had agreed for Marguerite and I to accompany him on his boat. He was more of a father to Marguerite than her own dad was. She was down at his home or by the docks with him nearly everyday. He taught her all sorts of things, and she relished in the knowledge that no normal girl received.  
  
Next thing I knew, though, I was home. I had just placed my hand on the doorknob, when the door was flung open. "Oh, Charlotte! There you are! We have the best news for you!" My mother cried.  
  
I closed my parasol and entered the house, shutting the door behind me. My father stood at the bottom of the stairs, trying to look indifferent. But I could see his amusement because the corners of his mouth were raised ever so slightly...  
  
"Mr. McCain, you know, the wealthy gentleman down by the pier? Well he came by earlier and he =insisted= that you accompany him on his trip to Port Royal in the Caribbean!" My mother gushed.  
  
"Oh! Lovely!" I put on my best look of surprise.  
  
"Your bags are all ready to go, my dear. All that you must do is eat dinner and get a good night's sleep for tomorrow morning." My father announced.  
  
I bit my bottom lip in happiness. "Thank you father, mother!" I threw my arms around my mother, and hugged her. Then I turned to my father, who was smiling and already had his arms open and waiting for me. I eagerly hugged him as well.  
  
I couldn't wait until tomorrow morning.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Ok, as I mentioned earlier, you can expect the dashing Captain Jack Sparrow in ch.2. I merely had to lay down the lines here in ch.1  
  
Ch.2 is all typed and ready to go, so leave lotsa lovely reviews and I shall post it!  
  
REVIEW!!!  
  
~* ElfPilot *~ 


	2. The Plan Quickly Unravels

DISCLAIMER: PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN IS NOT MINE. I DO NOT CLAIM RIGHTS.

Alrighty! Shoutouts:

ISJ: Thank you . Long live Jack, indeed! LOL

Ella Enchanted: I'm posting, I'm posting! I'm glad that you like this. Your fic is incredible!

Ayva Trance: As long as you keep reviewing, I'll keep writing!

Bubbletoes: looks around cautiously Don't tell anyone...but looks around again yours is my favorite review! tee hee I fear that you boosted my ego so much, I can no longer get my head through the door! LOL. I'm glad you like this, and I REALLY hope that you update yours again soon!

Inori: I can't wait to see what happens with Jack, either, LOL. I don't even know and I'm the author! LOL. I'm just writing this as I go...but don't worry, I do have a slight idea what I'm doing . "slight" being the key word there...LOL

Dark Rosaleen: I'm so glad you like it! Review again, please!

Dazzle: Educational trip my ass. LOL. I'm glad that you like the characters. I was so worried that they were Mary Sues. Well, actually, Charlotte's kinda supposed to be a MS, lol. But only a very little one. She won't do anything too sappy or corny .

SilverEyes: I've been working on intertwining details lately. I'm glad that someone picked up on that! It makes hauling out the thesaurus and everything seem worthwhile, lol . And thank you so much for putting me on your faves! .

Martian Aries: Yeah! looks around suspiciously Marguerite's my favorite character too but don't tell Charlotte that, LOL. And I typed in "dad" instead of "father" because Charlotte kept saying "Father", "Father", "Father", and it became so redundant .

Kcauz: Thanks so much!

: Actually, I couldn't remember how Port Royale was spelled. I was debating about the 'e'. Funny that you mentioned it, lol )

Seraphina2: The critiquing was good. I'm also hoping that I can keep jack in character. I suppose the true test shall come, aye? I'm going to make this as non-mushy as possible. Fluff is good, but not when /Captain/ Jack Sparrow is involved squeals girlishly at the funny thought Tee hee, Captain J.S. acting all sweet and innocent can't get over fits of giggles Thanks for adding me to your faves .

CharmedFanatic12: Yep, I like him too

Okay! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR REVIEWING! I _hate_ writing something that no one's reading, LoL.

Also, to the PotC authors who read this story because I read theirs--you're so great! I look to your fics as inspiration and I'm so glad that you enjoy mine, as well! I hope you continue to read it, because I'm looking forward to updates on all of yours!

Now please read, enjoy, and review!

* * *

CHARLOTTE'S P.O.V.

* * *

I had already woken up when the cockerel crowed the next morning. Well, actually, I never went to sleep. All night I'd been tossing and turning—unable to contain my excitement.

The maids swooped into the room just as the sun began to peak over the eastern hills. "Miss! Oh, miss! Is it true? Are you really going on a trip with Mr. McCain? Oh what a nice man he is!" They chattered—more to each other than to me.

"Yes, yes. It's true. Could you please help me get dressed so that I may be at the docks on time?" I replied.

"Oh, of course, madam!"

I was quickly tied into my skirts and corset. My chestnut hair was pulled back in an elaborate twist and I slipped my delicate, silk slippers onto my feet.

There was a knock on my door. "Charlotte, are you ready, darling?" My mother's voice floated through.

"Coming, mother!" I stepped out of the room and my mother squealed. "Oh, you look so lovely, dear! I know that you shall act the perfect lady and that Mr. McCain will be most pleased that he invited you along!" She gushed.

"I certainly hope so." I agreed.

"I know so." My father had just finished getting ready, and joined in on the conversation. "Now come, we mustn't be late. Mr. McCain will wish to leave port as soon as he can."

Both of my parents were dressed for the occasion as well. Father had put on his best business suit, and mother's chocolate hair was tied up so that it cascaded in ringlets.

My father ushered my mother and I down the stairs, outside, and into the awaiting carriage. The servants loaded my luggage into the back, and, soon, the driver whipped the horses into a gentle trot.

The pink of dawn was fading into a peaceful blue. And as we rounded the final corner, sea and sky blended together in what seemed an unearthly painting.

As soon as the carriage stopped, I almost jumped out. But father exited first and held his hand aloft for me. I grasped it and he helped me, then mother down.

"There you are, Miss Clare!" A hearty voice called. I turned and saw Mr. McCain standing on the wharf beside his boat.

"Ah! Good morning, Edward!" My father strolled forward and they grasped one another's hands in greeting.

"Victor! Good to see you, man! Good to see you!" Mr. McCain vigorously shook my father's hand, and my father grinned broadly. "Bernadette." Mr. McCain bowed to my mother, who curtsied. Finally his gaze fell on me again. "Are you ready, Miss Charlotte?"

I curtsied. "Yes, and thank you for generously inviting me along." I smiled.

"It was my pleasure. Now, grab your things and come aboard. Your cabin is just around here..."

My father reached my bags for me, and my family and I followed Mr. McCain up the gangway.

The boat was rather small-- certainly not large enough to be called a ship. But nonetheless, there was plenty of room on deck to stroll or sit about and sew. There were only two cabins: Mr. McCain's and mine. His small crew slept below deck, which I could only imagine was a cramped and uncomfortable area, especially since the top half was rather hemmed in.

"We should be casting off in just a few hours." Mr. McCain stated as he opened the door to my little room. There was a bed and a desk inside. On the desk was an oil lamp for when it grew dark. My father placed my bags on the bed, and he and Mr. McCain left to talk of business.

My mother took a few small steps around the room. "It seems...cozy." She murmured. I sat upon the bed.

"I will be fine, mother." It was obvious that she was having second thoughts.

"Oh, I know, darling. I know. It's just hard for any mother to see their child growing up and going places."

"I shall be back in a few months." I stated. She bit her lip.

"Yes, that you shall."

"Ready, darling?" My father poked his head into the room.

"Yes, dear." My mother answered.

I stood and bid my parents farewell, a little teary-eyed.

"Safe travels, sweetheart."

* * *

Before long, my parents had gotten back into the carriage and driven away. Mr. McCain was tending to last minute problems before we left the bay—which was bustling with activity as Londoners awoke and got to work.

I had just pulled out my stitching so that I could keep myself busy when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" I called.

The door opened, and a skinny boy walked in carrying a tray of food. "Breakfast, miss!" He smiled.

He must not have hit puberty, I thought. He was scrawny and his voice had not yet deepened as a man's does. "Thank you." I nodded finally.

He put the tray down on the desk. I returned to my sewing. He didn't leave. "Isn't there something else, ma'am?" He asked after several moments of silence.

I looked up from my work. "No—that will be all, thank you."

The boy frowned, and so did I. Why was he being so pert? Young gentlemen did not annoy a lady so...

"Oh for goodness sake, Charlotte!" The boy growled, breaking the awkward silence again. I blinked in surprise. How dare he!

…Wait a moment...I knew that voice!

"Marguerite?" I questioned hesitantly. In response, the servant pulled the tie from his hair. Blond cascaded and fell on his shoulders.

"But of course!" She smiled. I could only stare open-mouthed. "I guess my disguise is good, huh? You didn't recognize me, and you're my best friend!" She laughed. I sat in silence—still speechless. "And my, Lottie, I must tell you! These pants are great! They're so much better than dresses and..."

"Marguerite!" I hissed, finally snapping out of my stupor. I jumped up and ran to the door, closing it. "Have you gone MAD?" I whispered fiercely.

"No." She replied simply, picking up my stitching, looking it over, and tossing it back on the bed.

"I can't believe you really went through with this! I thought for sure that you were just..."

"Oh come off it," She grumbled. "I told you that this was the plan. I don't know why you're acting all huffy and surprised." She muttered.

"I didn't think you would actually go through with it!" I snapped.

She scowled in her very characteristic manner. "I said I was going to, Charlotte. You should have known that I would."

I pouted and crossed my arms, turning my back to her. "Doesn't mean I have to like it." I grumbled.

She laughed slightly, as I knew she would. She never could stay serious for long. "Well don't be upset! You have to admit that I look like a boy." She stated.

I turned and fully looked at her for the first time. Her golden hair was tied back with a leather thong-as was the fashion among men of the sea. She hadn't cut it because she had always had it short to begin with. Her bangs --which she had let grow some time back-- were still too short for the tie, and hung scrappily in her face. She wore a billowy white shirt, and I realized that she must have bound her breasts, because there was no indication of them. Her brown breeches were belted around her thin waist, and the extra length of the too-long belt hung at her side. The pants tucked into knee-high leather boots. The entire outfit seemed worn and scraggily; she looked every part the sea rat. But I wasn't going to admit that she was right.

"You'll look even more like some scoundrel when you're covered in dirt and have smudges all over your face." I remarked stiffly.

She laughed. "Don't worry, it won't take long for that!" She assured me, always smiling.

"All hands on deck! All hands on deck!" Shouted a voice outside the door, suddenly.

"That'll be me!" She grinned happily. "See you later, Lottie!" She waved slightly, and rushed out the door.

Not long after, there was a small jolt as the boat cast off from the docks.

* * *

I do not know how long we were at sea. It seemed as though those days were endless. I would awake early in the morning, and spend the entire, long day stitching or strolling among the crew. Night would fall, and everyone would drop off to sleep. But in what seemed a blink of an eye, the sun would again be rising in the east. It felt as though those days were all linked together.

And as I continued to act the perfect lady, Marguerite grew more and more enthusiastic in her role as a male. She paraded and swaggered like a natural man might do, and worked just as hard as many of the sailors. The crew thought her a scrawny runaway and mostly shunned her—until she proved her worth.

There had been a mild storm one day, and a brief mishap with the sails. Apparently, a rope had slipped and the sail was thrashing about wildly. No one wanted to get close for fear of being knocked off their feet. But Marguerite, small and agile, had leapt up and grabbed the wild rope—struggling and battling with it. The fierce wind made it a worthy opponent, and soon the rest of the crew ran to help. They eventually managed to get the tricky, little thing back under control.

I, being in the cabin as a proper lady should, had not seen this event firsthand. The proof against my skepticism, however, was the rope burn on Marguerite's hands. It was particularly severe and she bled terribly. Despite the raging pain she must have felt, however, Marguerite smiled more sincerely than she ever had before. The rest of the crew gave her pats on the back and jovially congratulated her on the whole thing. After that day, they didn't ignore her any longer, and she reveled in the attention.

Mr. McCain and I, thankfully, were still the only ones who knew that she was a girl. All else knew her as "Laurent".

As she grew more and more boyish each day (enjoying every moment of it, I might add) I could only wonder what she would do when the time came to return home. I feared she might throw a tantrum if she were ever forced into a dress again, and Lord only knew how she would behave at noble functions!

Would she stay on as a sailor? Surely she couldn't keep up the masquerade for much longer! How many more days until her secret was blown? These questions plagued me, day and night.

But then, another part of me argued, who back home would miss her? Surely not the ladies or courtiers who had scorned her. Most definitely not her parents, who didn't even realize she was gone.

But I would! Who would I tell all of my blackest secrets to—assured that she had no desire to gossip and spread the tale? Marguerite was my only trustworthy companion, inappropriate as she might be. What was I to do if I returned to London and she stayed at sea?

I had discussed the whole affair with Mr. McCain. I told him that when the time came, he had to force her home! I told him that it was too dangerous for her to keep pretending, and that I would be too lonely without her.

His only reply was that even if she did slip up, the crew already liked her. They would be surprised, but they wouldn't care that she was a girl. "As for your need of friendship," He had said, "I'm sure that your parents will be marrying you off any day now—they're probably searching for suitable men while you're here at sea. A woman's husband is her sole confidant."

That ended the matter. But it did not quell the despair that knotted my stomach.

Had I, however, known the true meaning of despair, I might not have been so apt to worry on those lovely days. I may have focused on enjoying the voyage. But I did not know what was to happen...

* * *

It had been an exquisite day—like all of the others since we had entered the Caribbean. The skies were blue, the sun was shining, and our small, little boat sailed peacefully through the crystal waters.

I, as usual, sat upon deck, sewing. This time, however, I was working on some of the men's clothes. They had a tendency to be careless about them, and brought them to me for repairs. I was in the middle of stitching a patch into a knee when a call rose up from the crow's nest.

"Ship on the starboard side, Captain!" Mr. Myles announced. Mr. McCain, who had been in his cabin, rushed out.

"What are you hollering about, Myles?" He questioned.

"Over there, sir!" Myles pointed in the direction, and everyone's heads turned to see. As proclaimed, a ship could be seen as a black dot on the horizon.

Looking through his telescope, Mr. Myles yelled out again, "It's facing our way, sir! Seems they're heading towards us!"

Mr. McCain climbed up the tower and stood on the railed platform with Mr. Myles. He snatched up the telescope and peered through. An audible gasp escaped his lips.

"Take a look at their flag and let me know what you see!" He commanded Mr. Myles, shoving the telescope into his hands again. Mr. Myles raised it to his eye, and his jaw dropped.

"A-A pirate flag, s-sir." He stammered.

"I thought so." Mr. McCain growled. "We're only a day away from Port Royal! I knew our luck held out too long!" He cursed, banging his fist on the railing angrily. He pulled off his powdery wig, ran his hands through his balding brown hair, and placed the wig on again. A sigh of determination barely reached my ears. "Keep a watch on it for me, Myles." He ordered. He began to descend to the deck again. "All hands on deck! All hands on deck!"

The cry rang up throughout the entire boat, as the crew assembled. I had always known that the boat was small, but now the crew seemed nothing more than an assembly of the skinniest, weakest, and most inept men brought together. Good Lord in high Heaven, we were no match for pirates!

"Miss Charlotte, I order you to go to your cabin; bar the door!" Mr. McCain stated gruffly.

My mind was racing, and I knew that my icy, green eyes were wide with shock of the whole thing, but one thought managed to distinguish itself from the rest...

"Mr. McCain, Laurent is my servant and I couldn't possibly move a heavy thing in front of a door alone. I shall require his services."

I said this knowing that Mr. McCain understood my true meaning: despite her garments, Marguerite was also a lady, and should not have to deal with pirates.

"Of course, of course. Laurent, accompany Miss Charlotte to her rooms."

"Aye, sir!" Marguerite hopped out of the line of sailors. She looked disappointed. Well that was just too bad. Like it or not, she was a lady! I allowed her to strut around in breeches and curse like a sailor, but I had to draw the line somewhere. She would _not_ be fighting pirates. And that was that.

I scurried into my room, Marguerite lagging unhappily behind. "Hurry, hurry! Make haste! They'll be upon us soon!" I scolded. She rolled her eyes.

"I _know_ that, Lottie." She griped.

I ignored her and quickly closed the door. Marguerite shoved the desk in front of it.

"Goodness gracious!" I exclaimed. "I didn't _really_ expect you to be able to move that thing!"

She plopped down on the bed. "I know. But you really ought to brace yourself. From what I hear, pirates fight nasty and they take pleasure in using the cannons on little boats such as this."

"Good Lord! Wouldn't that sink the ship?" I screeched.

"To be sure," She nodded. "They'll take all of the loot first, of course." She paused a moment and looked almost uneasy, almost as though she wasn't sure if she should say what was on her mind or not.

"What?" I prompted quickly. "What is it?"

She remained deep in thought for another moment, lips slightly pursed, before she reached into her boot and withdrew a long dagger.

"Good Lord!" I jumped. "Put that vile thing away! Who gave you that?"

She shook her head, a frown on her mouth. "That doesn't matter right now. All that matters is that you take it." I watched as her hand came up and extended the weapon to me.

I eyed it with loathing. "I want nothing to do with that despicable scrap of metal."

She sighed loudly, rolling her baby-blues in exasperation. I scowled at being talked down to.

"Look, Lottie," She growled, turning her sharp gaze on me. "Women are loot, ok? When those pirates board this boat, they're going to storm every single room in search of anything valuable. And how much do you think we're worth to a bunch of sex-starved pirate rats?"

My green eyes widened as her words sank in and a shiver rippled down my spine. "Surely they can't get in with the door barred!" I persisted, desperate not to believe that what she was saying was true.

She looked heavenward for a moment, as though begging someone up there for help.

Before she could tell me more horrible things, though, I snatched the dagger from her waiting hand.

She pulled another from her other boot and held it tightly, almost as though she was testing something. I stood there hesitantly, awkwardly holding the foreign object in my pale hands.

Her pensive gaze turned back to the door. "You know, barring the door probably isn't a good idea. It'll just prove to them that there's something to hide in here."

"You want to _unlock_ it?" I asked in disbelief.

She shrugged. "It doesn't much matter. Even in they do make it in here, I've got an escape route planned. Barring the door will give us the time we need to get away."

My interest was peaked. "An escape route?" I repeated, almost disbelievingly.

"Sure!" Suddenly she eyed me. "Actually, you might want to take off all of those skirts and petticoats." She informed me.

My eyes grew impossibly larger. "Excuse me?" I shrieked.

"They'll only weigh you down." She declared simply, not bothered by the conversation at all.

"I, well, I, uh..." I was about to tell her that I simply would _not_ strip down to my slip, when a sudden storm of shouts and cries picked up outside the door.

"The pirates have boarded." Marguerite observed.

Instantly, I began removing every stitch and ribbon that I had on.

Heavy boots pounded on the deck outside, accompanied by angry shouts and curses. Men screamed as pistols were fired—probably into their flesh, and the clang of cutlasses barely rang out between the terrible, foreboding booming of the cannons.

My teeth were chattering and I knew my hands were shaking as I stuffed my dress under the bed.

Marguerite had stood up, long ago, from her position on the bed. Her entire body was tense, alert. She had a feral look in her eyes that I had never seen before, and the sight of her there, dressed like a dirty boy and ready to attack whatever came through that door, threw me for a moment. But I didn't have long to reflect on it.

A large bang pounded in my ears as someone kicked the heavy, wooden door to my room. "Now what's ahidin' in here?" A rough, surly voice growled.

"C'mon!" Marguerite, previously as still as a statue, practically flew at me, grasping my wrist and forcing me along. She let go, briefly, and searched under the bed where I had just stashed my dress. Her hand came out with a sack in tow. "I put it there for just such an emergency." She stated, seeing my confused expression. "Now c'mon! Quickly!" She pushed me forward as another pounding rocked the door on its hinges.

"But what are we..."

"Go!" She interrupted, shoving me passed the bed. "Through the window!" She ordered.

I had no time to interject, however, as she hoisted me up and literally crammed me through the porthole. Thank God that the boat was so small, or else it would have been a long drop to the bottom—which I hit with a loud smack.

Marguerite was right behind me. I had just risen to the surface again –coughing and spluttering-- when she dropped into the waves. Quickly, she reappeared above the surface. "Take a breath of air!" She ordered.

There was simply no time to question her strange orders. I inhaled as much air as possible and dunked my head under the waters.

I was scared out of my mind. Lord only knew what was lurking in the dark beneath us...what the pirates would do if they saw us. There was no safe place. I could merely float here and await more instructions from Marguerite.

Finally, right before my lungs began to burn for more air, there came a tap on my shoulder. I rose again to the top. Marguerite had a large board of wood from the wreckage floating in her grasp. "Home, sweet home." She motioned to it with a grim smile.

My jaw dropped. "_What_? But what about Mr. McCain...and the boat? For goodness sake, what of the crew?"

Her expression had gone somber, though. Instinct caused me to gaze over my shoulder—and I gasped. The Adventurer was burning low into the waters. Tears filled my eyes, but Marguerite took my arm and guided me towards the wood. I climbed onto it –with difficulty-- and Marguerite clambered on beside me.

I could hear faint singing. The pirate ship was sailing off—loaded with new riches. A vile hatred for all men of sin filled my heart.

Mr. McCain...the crew...the boat... Had they no mercy? And what of Marguerite and I? How long were we to float on these waters?

* * *

Two weeks-- two bloody, wretched weeks on the ocean. Thank God that Marguerite had had that emergency pack hidden under my bed. She had stuffed food and water into glass bottles (to waterproof them) and had thrown in a blanket as well.

I often used the coarse sheet to protect myself from the sun. But Marguerite –who's half-Irish from her mother's side— was burning worse than a match. She was beet red ALL over. If you touched her tender skin, your handprint would remain searing white on her skin for a moment, then fade back to red.

But whenever I offered her the blanket as a shield, she declined. "You need it more than me." She'd said simply.

This, of course, wasn't true, as by the fourteenth day, Marguerite came down with a fever. By the fifteenth, she had chills and was nauseous. And by the sixteenth, she was leaning over the edge of the board, vomiting.

I had decided to stop being so selfish, and had long ago started holding the blanket over Marguerite to block the sun—whether she liked it or not.

She had also let me have the greater portions in food and water—both of which we were nearly out of. She had seen to rationing them well. But now, it was more than apparent that what she needed was water. I took only tiny sips and poured the rest down her throat.

It seemed to help none. Soon, she was delirious and I was hysterical with panic. I didn't know what else to do! She was the brains and brawn behind the operation! Loathe as I was to admit it, I was merely the beauty. I couldn't save either of us, let alone both, on my own!

The last of the supplies was spent, Marguerite was _very, very_ sick, and we were still in the middle of nowhere! I was terrified. I didn't know what to do!

Desperate, I dropped to my knees. Tears of anxiety dripped down my cheeks. "Dear God," I begged aloud holding my folded hands high above my head for him to see. "Please—I implore you! Please help me! Marguerite is too sick! We will both die! Please, please! Send us hope! Send us help! Please..." My grief was too much.

I doubled over, clutching myself and sobbing madly. The burden was too great... I was overwrought with sorrow.

"Please...please..." I whispered over and over. Tears fell in puddles about me.

"Please...some hope...some help..."

I felt a warm, comforting hand gently cup my face. I looked up. No one was there. I glanced at Marguerite, who lay deathly still—eyes closed. My breath caught for a moment, but then I saw her chest rise and fall slightly. A sigh of relief escaped my lips.

So who had touched me? There was nothing but vast ocean as far as the eye could see... But wait...there was a ship... By God there was a ship!

A ship with black sails...

* * *

Mwahahaha!

Ok, seriously, I know I swore to have Jack in this chapter, and he is there! Very far off the in the distance on his ship... LOL But honestly, this chapter was just TOO long! I feel like I've given away half the story (which I haven't). I _had_ to stop, LoL.

And all of the things happening to Marguerite are 100 accurate. The Irish are known for having pale, fair skin. The paler you are, the worse the sun is for you.

I looked it up, just to see what some serious symptoms were, and I found that people who were pale, blond (or redheaded) and had blue eyes were at the highest risk. I don't know why. But I thought it might be fun to throw in a little twist

Also, I have a mailing list. Some of you (who already reviewed) are on it, and if you want on/off just let me know. If you want on, please leave your address.

Please review!

ElfPilot


	3. No Rest for the Weary

DISCLAIMER: PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN IS NOT MINE. I DO NOT CLAIM RIGHTS.  
  
**groans** I'MMMM SOOOOOOO LAZZZZZYYYY!!!!!! Sorry that it has taken me so freakin' long to get this chap up, you guys. I think that if I stop to type in shoutouts and thank-yous here, I might just stop writing. LOL. That bores me. So this time I'm gonna skip all that crap, and just get right to the story.  
  
THANX TO ALL WHO REVIEWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
LOTTIE'S P.O.V.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Wait a moment here, those weren't black sails! Had I really been out at sea so long that I was also going delusional, now? No, the sun was setting, and everything around us was being thrown into shadows. They only appeared to be black.  
  
Well whatever the color of the sails, I was just happy to see a ship. Marguerite and I needed help, and badly. At this point, I no longer cared how unladylike I might have seemed. The only thought that I gave attention to was that of survival.  
  
I leapt to my feet and began jumping up and down (rocking the unsteady float wildly). I waved my arms. "Help! Help! OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SAVE US!!"  
  
I screamed and shouted until my throat was raw and burning. The waves from the ship violently crashed against the small plank, and I was tossed to my knees. Desperately I clung to its sides, hoping with all hope that nothing happened.  
  
Then, like a light in the eternal dark, a rope was tossed over the side of the ship.  
  
"Grab hold, miss!" One of the crew shouted. Without a second thought, I wrapped myself around that rope, as though clinging to my very last lifeline. I just might have been.  
  
"Heave! Come on, men! It's just a young girl! Haul her up already!" The rope jerked and pulled taut, but I held so fast that my knuckles turned white. The topsides of the ship quickly came into view.  
  
Standing on the deck were many refined young men-all in the gallant red uniform of Britain. "Miss, are you all right?" A tall and handsome one asked.  
  
I, still clutching to the rail and gasping for breath, could only nod.  
  
"Captain! The other is unconscious!" A young soldier called to the man that I was speaking with.  
  
"Send someone to retrieve the boy!" This man, apparently the captain, ordered.  
  
"Aye, sir!" The younger nodded and rushed off.  
  
I watched silently, realizing that they also thought Marguerite a boy. Just as well, I suppose. There were bound to be plenty of questions as to why a lady was stranded at sea, never you mind two.  
  
The captain returned his gaze to me. "I am Captain Moreton. You are.?"  
  
"Charlotte. Miss Charlotte Clare."  
  
He gave me a momentary, scrutinizing glance, then cleared his throat. "Right. Well, please, right this way, Miss Clare. You seem exhausted and I imagine that you are in dire need of rest. We can talk more when you are revived."  
  
"Thank you, Captain Moreton." I nodded, remembering that indeed, I was very tired.  
  
He began walking down the deck towards the cabins when another thought occurred to me. "Oh, please. What of Laurent?"  
  
He paused for a moment. "The boy?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"He will be attended to. I assure you, whatever ordeal you have suffered, you are in safe hands now."  
  
If only he had been right.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I was placed in a well-furnished cabin in the back of the ship. Fresh water was provided for me. I also received a nightgown. Apparently, the captain and some of the crew had done some trading while being out and about on various missions. He had gotten the nightgown and a few other lovely dresses for his wife. He assured me, though, that it was no complication whatsoever. I was obviously in need of them, and so I was given them. I was too tired to protest.  
  
As soon as he left, I washed all over, even dipping my salt-crusted hair into the basin a few times. Wringing out every last drop, I slipped the nightgown over my head and crawled under the blankets of the bed. I knew not whose cabin it really was, but I didn't care. The only thing that mattered at that moment was the soft caress of the pillows on my cheek and the warmth of the covers over me.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I know not when it was exactly, but some time during the night, I was awoken by the loud clamor of men running and shouting.  
  
Groggily, I wrapped a blanket around myself and stumbled through the dark cabin towards the doorway.  
  
Just as I lay my hand on the doorknob, the loud ***boom*** of a gunshot echoed. I jumped back, eyes wide.  
  
Not again. O dear God, NOT AGAIN! It couldn't be! How could this happen!?  
  
My door was thrown open. I shrieked and hurled myself backwards. A long shadow was thrown across the floor and a tall figure stood in the doorway.  
  
"Lottie?"  
  
I paused, my heart still thumping wildly. "Marguerite? Oh Marguerite, it's you! Thank the Lord!"  
  
She staggered into the room, and I closed the door behind her, trying desperately to block out the noise of battle outside. Something terrible was happening. That was very easy to see.  
  
She stepped into the small patch of moonlight that the porthole provided.  
  
"Marguerite!" I gasped. "You look terrible!"  
  
Indeed, there were deep circles under her eyes, and her shoulders hunched as though under great weight.  
  
"Did you get no sleep!?" I asked.  
  
"Hardly any," She mumbled, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "They kept pourin' water down me throat. Said I was dehydrated."  
  
"I would imagine so!" I proclaimed, wincing as several more gunshots went off. "What's going on out there?"  
  
"Some of 'em were tendin' to me, when all of a sudden someone started hollerin' about pirates. They all jumped up and reached for their guns. They're tryin' to prevent the pirates boardin'. I came a'lookin' for you. I had a feelin' you wouldn't be sleepin' either."  
  
"Pirates!? Why in the name of God would pirates attack the British navy!? I heard that they were mad, but surely not suicidal!?"  
  
Nothing was making sense. The loud racket of guns and screaming was clouding up my mind. I couldn't think properly. What were the odds that we could be attacked by pirates twice in a row!?  
  
"Probably be wantin' revenge," Maggie growled. "I heard some of the officers braggin' about the pirates that they hung some time ago,"  
  
"Good." I exclaimed.  
  
"Then again," Maggie continued, ignoring anything I said. "They might be after some hefty loot. Apparently, the navy is still carryin' the dead pirates' treasure. These rats might've gotten wind of the whole affair and decided to try their luck." She reasoned, trying to push a dresser in front of the doorway.  
  
"Surely no pirate could outwit our navy!?" I cried.  
  
She stopped and turned to me, looking deadly serious. "You'd be surprised how strong greed can make any a man."  
  
I slumped to the floor in shock. I was having a very bad case of déjà vu. The screaming, the bullets, barricading the door, the terrible pang in my heart... I couldn't take this! This was just how it happened last time! Would Marguerite and I jump into the sea again, floating on a rotted piece of wreckage for weeks more, only to be picked up by an innocent ship, and attacked again, forever repeating the whole thing!?!? Or I was to die, here, now? Would I never see my home again?  
  
"Open up!" Someone shouted through the doorway.  
  
Marguerite threw herself in front of the chest that she had placed there, leaning against it as the door rocked on its hinges.  
  
I could only sit in a small huddle in a dark corner, breathing deeply and panicking.  
  
"We 'ave yer cap'in cornered! Open up now, or we'll fire!"  
  
Marguerite did not move. She did not even blink. She held herself to that one spot, fixing at her weight against it in a desperate and final attempt to survive.  
  
Wood splintered and flew across the room and they began firing upon the door. I screamed in terror. The marks were only inches from Marguerite's head. She was going to be killed if she didn't move!  
  
"Open 'er up! We know you've got our booty on thar!"  
  
So that was it. We were going to be killed because crazed pirates thought that treasure was hidden in the very same room as us. Dear God, what had I done to deserve this!?  
  
"Lottie," Marguerite whispered, sweat dripping down her face. The pirates continued to bang on the door, and she grimaced for a moment as it almost gave way. I marveled at her. She was very ill and looked half-dead. How was she still able to push herself that far?  
  
"Lottie, I want you to hide. Hide, now!" She whispered urgently.  
  
I sat, paralyzed with fear.  
  
"NOW!" She hissed as more yelling was heard.  
  
I shook myself form my reverie, and lunged underneath the grand bed.  
  
As soon as I was gone from sight, Marguerite fell back from the chest, and the door flew open. She sat on the floor, heaving and panting.  
  
I could see everything through a small rip in the dust ruffle. Three well- muscled pirates had the pistols trained on her.  
  
"Where be it!? Where's our treasure!?"  
  
"It's not here." She growled back.  
  
One grabbed her collar and scooped her small form off the floor. "Don't lie to us, boy-o! You be nothin' but a twig!"  
  
"I ain't lyin'!" She spat. Her whole body was shaking. Had she been in better condition, I had no doubt that she'd try to take them on.  
  
"Damned simperin' pup!" Her captor growled, tossin' her aside.  
  
The three of them began clambering around the cabin, like hungry sharks seeking out their prey. My breath caught in my throat as one came very near.  
  
I watched his boots as they took several steps, paused, as he looked something over, then stepped off again.  
  
I closed my eyes, relieved. But the glory was short-lived; the man stopped, turned, and came towards my hiding place again. I felt tears sting my eyes as he dropped to his knees and peered under the bed. A look of discovery crossed his face the moment that he saw me.  
  
"Well lookie what he have a'here, boys!" He grasped my wrist and roughly yanked me from my spot.  
  
"'T'ain't gold, but I reckon it's a prize a'right!" The other two turned and sneered maliciously.  
  
"Let's take 'er to the cap'in. 'T'ain't no treasure in here, anyways." One decided, grabbing up Marguerite and throwing her over his shoulder. I had a feeling that she had blacked out. If she hadn't, she was about to. She couldn't have been feeling quite well at the moment.  
  
My captor grasped me tighter, and we were hauled out on deck.  
  
"Cap'in! Cap'in! A'looky what we found! 'Et's a pretty, lil' wench!"  
  
I looked everything over. So the rats hadn't been lying. Our captain was tightly bound to the mast, as were a few other soldiers. Most, though, were scattered about the ground, dead or unconscious. I felt ill.  
  
I was dragged up to a tall, dark man. The moon spotlighted him, and I could clearly see several gold teeth in his smirk. His hair was dark and wild underneath a three-cornered hat, and beads and various trinkets held down a few strands. There was a vague touch of red peering from under the brim of the cap, and I guessed that he had a bandanna on. His skin was brown and weathered, and there was a black sort of paint around his chocolate eyes. His moustache was surprisingly well trimmed, but I could see a few spare whiskers about his braided beard. His stance was strong and confident. I had no doubt that this was their captain.  
  
He looked me up and down without shame, and I wished that I had a robe on. He turned to Captain Moreton suddenly.  
  
"Now, Cap'in," He grinned, his voice deep and full. "What are you doin' with this pretty lil' thing aboard? I thought you navy boys had morals! Whatever will your wife say?"  
  
He had a strange accent, as though he'd been to many places and thrown all of their dialects together.  
  
"Sparrow, you leave her alone!" The Captain ordered solemnly.  
  
"You mean I shouldn't be doin' this, then?" He stepped closer to me, and leaned in. I could feel his hot breath on my neck, and shivered, trying to shy away from him.  
  
"Sparrow," Moreton warned.  
  
The pirate captain's hand came and rested on my shoulder, but slowly began slipping down my chest...  
  
"Stop it," I whispered, my voice shaking.  
  
He stepped back, and stared me in the eye. He grinned like a child whose been rewarded with sweets. "Are you scared?"  
  
I could not answer. My voice was caught. All that I could think about was whether or not I was going to live.  
  
Suddenly there was a loud cry of pain and a thud as the pirate next to me fell to the deck. Marguerite had knocked the man off of her, and was preparing to swing at Sparrow. He caught her by the wrist, swung her in, and held her down.  
  
"Now, now, lad. Not the smartest thing are you?"  
  
"Leave her alone!" She growled, struggling like a wild animal.  
  
Sparrow laughed, throwing his head back with full enthusiasm. "Who's going to stop me!? Let me clue you in, lad. You're a bit on the small side."  
  
He threw her to the ground. The fallen pirate grabbed her up and held a pistol to her temple. She was panting, and I doubt she had any energy left.  
  
"Don't! No! Please don't!" I cried.  
  
Sparrow glanced at me, smirking. "A friend of yours, lass?"  
  
My mind was racing. There had to be some way I could prevent the brute from shooting her!  
  
"You would shoot a woman!?" I asked.  
  
Sparrow looked truly humored. "Why do you ask, love?"  
  
"Would you!?!" I insisted.  
  
"I s'pose not. Why, you plannin' on savin' yourself for...later?" He gave the most suggestive face I had ever seen, and I felt truly repulsed. But I had no time for it.  
  
"Then you can't shoot!" I announced.  
  
He chuckled again. "And why not?"  
  
"Because she is a girl!"  
  
There was a pause. Marguerite looked at me with a stricken expression. Obviously, she was not in the least bit happy about me exposing her. I couldn't fathom why. Hadn't I just saved her life?  
  
Sparrow and all his crew burst out laughing. "You're a cheeky one, lass, I'll give you that!"  
  
"I'm not lying." I whispered. My resolve was fading, and quickly.  
  
"Aren't you, then?"  
  
I didn't answer. I couldn't.  
  
"Well then I suppose that we'll just have to find out, won't we?" Sparrow smirked, holding his blade aloft.  
  
My eyes widened.  
  
"Hold her up tall there, mate!" Sparrow ordered his man, who immediately picked Marguerite off the ground. Her arms were at her sides, and he had his hands clamped over her elbows. Her feet dangled above the deck. She seemed so small and helpless right then.  
  
Sparrow used his dagger to rip right down the front of her shirt. I gasped at his audacity. She had on nothing else but the bindings that held down her breasts.  
  
The smirk on Sparrow's face seemed to grow. "Well, it would seem that your friend wasn't lying."  
  
"Hard to mistake a rack like =that= for a man's!" His crew jeered.  
  
Both Marguerite and I turned red. These men were savages!  
  
"Cap'in!" One of them yelled suddenly. "We found the loot a'low deck!"  
  
"Excellent! Bring it forth and load it up on the Pearl!" He called over their cheers. Then he turned back to Marguerite and I. "Bring the girls too."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Sorry about the screwy accents. Hope you enjoyed it anyway.  
  
REVIEW!!  
  
~* ElfPilot *~ 


	4. An Agreement

DISCLAIMER: PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN IS NOT MINE. I DO NOT CLAIM RIGHTS.  
  
groans I'MMMM SOOOOOOO LAZZZZZYYYY!!!!!! Sorry that it has taken me so freakin' long to get this chap up, you guys. I think that if I stop to type in shoutouts and thank-yous here, I might just stop writing. LOL. So this time I'm gonna skip all that, and just get right to the story.  
  
THANKS TO ALL WHO REVIEWED BEFORE!!!!!!!! REVIEW AGAIN, PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
**LOTTIE'S P.O.V.**  
  
We were thrown down into a dark, dank cell. Marguerite was panting heavily and made no effort to pick herself up off the floor. I, needless to say, was in a dire state of panic.  
  
"Marguerite! Marguerite!? Please, Marguerite, are you all right?" I shook her shoulder, frantically trying to rouse her.  
  
"Don't..." She groaned. I pulled my hand away, dismayed to see a white shadow of it still there upon her red skin; her sunburn hadn't healed yet. "Let me sleep a while...wake me if...when, that is, you hear them coming." She instructed with slurred, tired words.  
  
"Do not worry. I promise that I will." I assured her, and she nodded slightly, closing her eyes. All was silent.  
  
I sat myself down on the filthy floor in the corner, hugging my knees to my chest. I laid my head upon them. I wished Marguerite had never talked me into this. Not that it was her fault that all of these things occurred, but...if she had not convinced me to take this trip...  
  
Stop it, I ordered myself. You could have said no to all of her begging and pleading. You could have denied her requests. It was your choice to come. Besides, Marguerite has done nothing but defend and protect you this whole time. She has been there for you throughout this whole unfortunate mishap. You are thinking traitorous thoughts.  
  
I shook my head, trying to clear away the battling consciences. It was ridiculous to argue with oneself, I decided. One can never do it because in one's heart lies the truth, no matter how consistently it is ignored.  
  
Then there were footsteps on the stairs.  
  
"Marguerite! Quick, Marguerite, wake up!" I hissed, feeling as though my heart were in my throat. "Marguerite! Please, they're coming!" Her eyes fluttered open. "Hurry! HURRY!"  
  
Slowly, almost reluctantly, she heaved herself up, clutching the cell wall for support.  
  
A short, stout man with a grayish and bristly beard came in through the doorway. "You," He stated, pulling the keys from his pocket. "Are wanted by the captain." He opened the door and waited. But Marguerite did not move, and so neither did I. "Come on, ladies, 'tis not wise to keep the cap'in a'waitin'." The old man growled.  
  
"Well isn't that unfortunate," Marguerite replied, pulling herself up taller. I could tell that she was trying to conceal her less-than-perfect state of health. "Tell your captain that if he requires audience with us, then he had best come down and see us."  
  
The aging pirate raised a bushy eyebrow, then slammed the door and walked off, muttering about the bud luck it was to have women aboard a ship. He stomped irritatedly up the stairs and out of sight.  
  
Marguerite flopped unceremoniously back onto the floor.  
  
"How do you feel?" I inquired, kneeling down beside her.  
  
"Like I've been plowed over by a wild mustang." She paused to take a deep breath. "You?"  
  
I sighed, not wanting to admit my true feelings and worry her more. But I could not stop myself. "Scared, confused, angry, upset, terrified...take your pick."  
  
She gave a wry grin. "Don't worry; I won't let them harm you."  
  
I smiled. She was completely sincere, of course, but there were more of them then there were of us. When they decided to do something, there would be little that Marguerite or I could do to stop them. I did not mention this to her, though. I just continued to smile in false optimism, and the two of us sat quietly for some time.  
  
Soon, though, the peaceful moment was interrupted as the brig door creaked open and two pairs of feet marched down the stairs. The grey pirate had returned with the captain.  
  
"Alright, which of ya's the stubborn wench?" He demanded.  
  
Marguerite sat up straight. "If you are looking for a wench, Captain, you are looking in the wrong place. Try searching your bed."  
  
She had dropped any hint of an accent from her voice, leaving perfect, proper English that could not be mistaken for anything but a noble woman's vocabulary.  
  
"Clever, luv, very clever."  
  
"I am not your love, Captain, and I pity the poor woman who is... If she is, in fact, a woman at all." She added.  
  
The captain eyed her, mumbling a brief, "Must be her," He inhaled deeply, still examining her. "Alright, lass, what'dya want?"  
  
"We request immediate passage—safe passage, as in without harm to us in any way, shape, or form. You will bring us back home to England immediately,"  
  
The captain opened his mouth to say something, but was quickly cut off as Marguerite continued in her numerous demands.  
  
"If you feel that you cannot bring us home for fear of your ship being recognized, you may stop a ways off and row us ashore. In the meantime, we shall require new apparel, the opportunity to bathe without audience or interruption, and more suitable quarters for the remainder of this voyage, starting now." Marguerite had risen while she was speaking, and now looked him confidently in the eye, her chin up. Only I could see the shake of her hands as she battled her own body's weakness.  
  
The captain stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "And what, lass, is the benefit of all this for me?"  
  
"In return for these things, and anything else that she and I may need or want, you will gain exactly half of my inheritance money and pardon from the officials, military and non, in my home."  
  
His eyebrows rose, as did those of the man beside him. "How much, exactly, is your inheritance, luv?"  
  
"Twelve thousand pounds. You will receive six thousand, precisely."  
  
"Eight thousand."  
  
"Done." Marguerite nodded. I gasped.  
  
"But, but Marguer..."  
  
"Shh," She cut me off with a wave off her hand. "It is already done. Now, Captain, if I recall correctly, that deal begins now."  
  
"Indeed, luv, it does." He smirked. "Gibbs, open the door for these lovely ladies."  
  
The old man jumped somewhat, startled to have been addressed so abruptly, and fiddled with the keys on the ring. He finally found the correct one, inserted it into the lock, and pulled the door open.  
  
"By the way, luv," The captain stood in the way. "One more thing. Just who are you to gain me clemency from said officials?"  
  
"I am Marguerite DeLacy, daughter of Judge and Mrs. DeLacy. This," She motioned to me. "Is the daughter of Judge Clare. Trust me, you will gain all of the pardon that you need." Again, she stared him straight in the eye.  
  
He grinned smugly. "And I have your word, lass?"  
  
"So long as I have yours."  
  
"Then it is an agreement," He stated, stepping aside. "Right this way, ladies." He grinned widely, holding his arms out to show the way.  
  
Marguerite started out the door without ever looking back. I followed her, eyes still wide.  
  
==============  
  
"Well, I suppose this will do," Marguerite murmured as she surveyed our new quarters.  
  
"I should hope so, luv. They're mine." Captain Sparrow grinned.  
  
"Oh. Well then, Captain, please be sure that the bed sheets are exchanged for clean ones. I can only imagine the number of...ladies that have inhabited them."  
  
"Oh. Countless." He bragged.  
  
"Of course." She sneered.  
  
"Will ya be wantin' a new shirt, too, luv?" He asked, eyeing the torn shirt that she wore appreciatively.  
  
Marguerite scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. "Obviously, Captain."  
  
He raised and eyebrow, smirking. "Pity. I rather liked that one..."  
  
Marguerite scowled harder.  
  
The captain fished around in a nearby cabinet and pulled out a billowy, white shirt. "'Ere you are, luv. I would've said that it's too big for ya, seeing as it's me spare, but I think you'll be able to fill it up right..." He winked.  
  
Marguerite glared.  
  
Chuckling, Captain Sparrow reached into the cabinet again and tossed some new sheets onto the bed. "Goodnight, luvs. Be sure to let me know if you need...anything..." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.  
  
Marguerite rolled her eyes and began ushering him out the door. "Yes, yes. Good night, Mr. Sparrow." She closed and locked the door behind him. "Jesus," She muttered. "What a pain in the a..."  
  
"Marguerite!" I hissed. "What are you thinking!? That inheritance money is your dowry, and there's absolutely no way that you'll be able to gain THAT man ANY pardon!"  
  
She rolled her eyes and waved her hand, as though waving away an annoying fly. "Please, Charlotte. We both know that I'm never getting married, anyway. Besides, granting him clemency won't be an issue. I simply slip into my father's office, find the appropriate papers, and sign them. Then it's just a matter of a certain pirate getting them, and he's off, leaving us to our boring days as 'proper ladies of the court' who'll never be anything more than miserable spinsters."  
  
I rolled my eyes at the comment she had put in at the end, but decided not to say anything for fear or encouraging her. "Marguerite, you ARE insane if you think you can forge those papers!"  
  
She scoffed. "Hardly. He's a pirate; he won't know the difference. Besides, I'll write up the papers so that they are only good for a while."  
  
"How long?"  
  
"Two weeks...tops."  
  
"Marguerite, I have a bad feeling about this."  
  
"You have a bad feeling about everything, Charlotte. I think that you need to lighten up. Relax. Everything will be just fine."  
  
==============  
  
The next morning, when I woke up, Marguerite was sound asleep next to me. I looked out of one of the small portholes. The sun was high in the sky. We had apparently slept in very late.  
  
I yawned and stretched, then climbed out of bed. Marguerite never stirred.  
  
I decided to let her sleep. The poor girl hadn't fully recovered and the small bout with Captain Sparrow yesterday probably had not done her any good.  
  
My stomach rumbled. I had not realized that I was so hungry. Where was I going to find food? I looked down and realized that I still had on the nightdress given to me by Captain Moreton. I paused. What had Sparrow done with him anyway? I shuddered to think. I didn't trust Captain Sparrow as far as I could throw him...which was not very far.  
  
Sighing, I grabbed up one of the blankets and wrapped it around myself for modesty. Then, opening the cabin door, I made my way out into the bright sunlight, squinting.  
  
"Miss Clare!" I heard someone exclaim. I glanced up and saw the old pirate, Gibbs, I think, standing there.  
  
"Hello," I nodded, at a loss for what else to say.  
  
"What are you doing out of the cap'in's quarters?" He asked, looking at me suspiciously.  
  
"I was looking for food."  
  
"I'll see that some is brought fer ya." He stated, shooing me back into the cabin.  
  
"Oh, well, uh...thank you."  
  
"Yes, yes. Just be sure to stay outta the crew's way."  
  
My eyebrows rose. "Uh...oh...well..."I stuttered.  
  
"I'll bring ya the bloody food, jus' go back inta the cabin, a'ready!"  
  
Eyes wide, I nodded and turned back inside as Gibbs stalked off, irritated once more.  
  
==============  
  
It did not take long before Gibbs arrived with breakfast...or lunch, really (how had I slept in so long?)  
  
I was quite happy to see the food... but not the pirate following it.  
  
"Mornin' lass!" Captain Sparrow smiled, taking a piece of bread from the food tray and gnawing on it.  
  
"Captain," I dipped my head courteously. "Thank you, Mr. Gibbs." I smiled at the aging pirate. He grumbled something about unnecessary, extra work and stomped out.  
  
Captain Sparrow watched him go, but didn't actually seem to see him, strange as that was. Then he turned to me, swallowing down the last piece of bread, sitting back, and plopping his boots onto a nearby desk.  
  
"'Ow did you sleep, luv?" He asked, his lips pursed as he fiddled with his braided beard.  
  
"Just fine, Captain."  
  
He smirked. "Of course. What a stupid question for me to ask. After all, you did sleep in my bed."  
  
My jaw dropped and my cheeks flushed a brilliant red. "Captain Sparrow, I find that highly inappropriate and I would greatly appreciate it if..."  
  
"Yer friend is still asleep?" He motioned to a practically unconscious Marguerite, completely interrupting me.  
  
"Obviously," I hissed, still feeling offended.  
  
His gaze instantly snapped to my face, and the grin seemed to grow on his lips. "No need to be insulting, lass, I was merely askin' a question."  
  
I crossed my arms and faced the other way indignantly.  
  
"'Ow long was the lass out in the sun?" He pursued, completely oblivious to my actions.  
  
"Several weeks," I answered quickly. Then I paused and turned to face him. "How did you know?"  
  
Again, the smug look crossed his features. "Ah, you see, luv, there are benefits to being a pirate. You can always tell when you have the upper hand. Your friend is certainly in the less desirable position." He finished with a look that seemed to say, "I know all."  
  
I merely gaped at him.  
  
Standing abruptly, he strode across the room and stopped at a plant growing in a pot on the desk, which was placed in full view of the sunlight. Without a word, he snapped a stem from the plant and handed the broken piece to me. "Rub the sap from the plant onto her burns; they will cool and heal much more quickly." He stated.  
  
"What plant is it?" I asked, never having seen its likeness.  
  
"Aloe vera, luv," He replied in a soft tone, as though speaking to a small child. He glanced again at Marguerite. "When she awakens, be sure that she finishes all of the water brought here, understand? When she is steady, she may get out of bed, but not before then." He instructed matter- of-factly.  
  
"You also learned all of this from being a pirate?"  
  
"Of course, luv," The grin broke out on his lips again. "The lass is not the first to swoon at the mere sight of me," He winked jokingly, and swaggered out the door, whistling what I suspected was a pirate's shanty.  
  
==============  
  
So does that make up for the unbearably long time I didn't update? I hope so! Please review!  
  
ElfPilot 


	5. Darkness

When we last left Charlotte (Lottie) and Marguerite, the ship of their host, Mr. McCain, had been attacked by pirates, leaving them stranded on a plank of wood in the ocean. They were rescued by the gallant Captain Moreton of the British Navy, only to be attacked AGAIN by MORE pirates! Of course, the leader of the scurvy rogues was none other than the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow. Marguerite, despite her poor condition (caused by heat exhaustion/mild heat stroke), struck a deal with him that, if he delivered them safely home, she would give him the majority of her inheritance and she that she would see to it that her father granted him clemency. Of course, our Marguerite only planned to forge the papers…

* * *

Charlotte's P.O.V.

* * *

I smoothed the cool gel from the Aloe Vera plant onto Marguerite's skin. She was muttering something in her fitful sleep, and my brow was creased with concern. Agitated, a pushed a piece of my chestnut hair off of my sweaty forehead as I mulled things over. It had been over a day since Marguerite had made the bargain with the pirate captain and we had been given his cabin (as a part of the deal). But immediately upon entering said cabin, of course, Marguerite had collapsed upon the bed and fallen asleep; she had not woken since. 

I tried, often, to give her water, but it would not go down her throat. I had already stripped the blankets off of her and had wrung rags in buckets of water and placed them all over her, but nothing, it seemed, would bring her temperature down. The burn on her skin was peeling more and more, but otherwise, there was no change.

"Marguerite," I spoke softly. "Marguerite, talk to me."

Of course, there was no reply, not that I had really expected one.

* * *

On the morning of the third day, Marguerite stirred slightly. 

Quickly, I jumped from my weary position in the chair at the desk. I grabbed another cloth from the bucket of water and replaced the now-warm one on her forehead. Her vibrant blonde hair, I noticed with remorse, had turned a dull, straw shade.

"Marguerite…Marguerite, are you awake?" I inquired gently.

She murmured something unintelligible, but I was assured by the fact that she was making the attempt.

"Are you ok?" I prompted again.

Her voice cracked on her second try, but on the third, I was able to distinguish one word: water.

Hastily, I reached for a glass and filled it with the fresh water from the small canteen. I guided the glass to her hands and helped her into a semi-upright position.

She brought the glass to her lips, shakily, but drank greedily. Much of the water spilled, for she appeared to be shivering,

"Are you…are you cold?" I asked incredulously.

She shook her head slowly and passed the empty glass back to me.

There was an awkward moment of silence. I filled it by fussing over her, replacing more of the constantly-warming rags of cloth with cool ones. I stopped, though, when I heard a small, croaking noise.

"Hmm? What did you say?" I asked her.

"Light more candles," She whispered. "It's dark in here."

I paused, dumbstruck. _What_?

"Umm…Marguerite, my dear…it's…uh…well, it's…morning. It's morning, Marguerite."

There was another pause, this one much tenser.

"Do not lie to me, Lottie," She replied, her feeble voice shaking slightly with emotion.

I swallowed, trying to make the lump in my throat go away. My voice was still meek, however, when I answered, "I'm not."

"Yes, you are!" Marguerite growled, and I could tell that it had taken much of her strength to do so. "This room is _black_, Lottie!"

I myself began to tremble, too. "Stop it, Marguerite! You're scaring me!" My eyes were wide and I found myself having to take deep breaths.

"_You're_ scared? Why can't I _see_ anything? Why is it so dark in here?" She was sitting up now, holding herself there, resolutely, with one arm.

I was getting choked up. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the lighting in the room—the sun was shining right through the small, round window.

"I…I don't know! Maybe you…maybe you're…"

"No! I am fine! There is nothing wrong with _me_!" She insisted with as much resiliency as she could manage, though it was clear that her body was protesting.

"Marguerite…" I pleaded with her. "As soon as we get home, we will find the best doctor in town and he will restore your vision and…"

"_RESTORE_?" She screamed, her voice cracking at the high-pitched, brutal treatment. "You can't fix what isn't broken, Charlotte! There is nothing wrong with me!" She hollered as she swung her feet to the floor.

"Stop! You're going to hurt yourself even more, Marguerite!" I leapt towards her, trying to coax her back into bed.

"NO!" Even ill, she was stronger than I, and she easily knocked my hands aside and stood up—though she immediately grasped the bedpost when she did so. "There is nothing to hurt _more_, Charlotte, because there is NOTHING. WRONG. WITH. ME!" She ground each word out through clenched teeth. The fury in her eyes and the red burn on her skin were terrifying to behold, and I was suddenly afraid of what she might attempt.

She tried to stride confidently for the door, but her gait seemed slow and painful, even to me, and she bumped straight into the wall. I couldn't stand to see my brave friend in such a sorry state. It was clear that she had no idea where she was going…

"Marguerite, _please_!"

She whirled around, unsteadily, to face the sound of my voice and retort, when the cabin door suddenly burst open.

"WHAT IN ALL THE SEVEN SEAS IS GOING ON IN HERE?" Jack Sparrow roared.

Marguerite's head snapped to face his direction, though I noticed that her hand had found the desk and was clutching it for dear life. She held so tight, in fact, that her red, burned knuckles had turned white.

"Captain, please," I sighed exasperatedly, throwing all decorum to the wind. "Marguerite's just not feeling well and…"

"NOT FEELING WELL? I'M_ BLIND_, CHARLOTTE!" She screamed.

I felt my temper rise within me at the moment, and nothing could suppress it. "Well, excuse me! I thought that '_nothing_'was wrong!" I bit the last sentence out contemptuously, instantly crossing my arms in front of me in the most childish manner—though I didn't care, at the moment, what I looked like.

"Whoa!" Sparrow shouted. "_Enough_, lassies!"

"Don't you tell _me_ 'enough', you pirate RAT!" Charlotte hollered at him. "_YOU_! You who kills innocent men and loots their cargo! Well _I_ have had enough of _you_!"

There was a deathly, still moment. My jaw dropped, and my hand rose, though only partially, to cover my gaping mouth.

Captain Sparrow stood staring at Marguerite with a very somber expression on his face and one eyebrow raised.

Marguerite was hunched slightly, close to panting, and fighting the trembling that was shaking her small, frail form.

My gaze flicked, anxiously, from one to the other. I was afraid of Sparrow's intentions, and what they held for poor Marguerite, who was already quite weak enough as it was. The silence seemed to stretch for eons…

Suddenly, the Captain burst out laughing. Marguerite glared harder. "O, lass! You flatter me!"

I continued to watch the whole scene uneasily.

"Now come, luv, back to bed with ya! Maybe if you're a good girl, I'll join you…"

"Captain!" I gasped. "Would you _please_? This is no joking matter! Marguerite is quite ill!"

"Yes, yes," the Captain muttered, waving his hands at me as though shooing off a fly. "Why don't you go on outside and get some fresh air, luv?"

"M-me?" I sputtered. "But Marguerite is sick and she will need…"

"...For you to stop clucking like a hen." He interrupted, already "guiding" Marguerite to the bed..

"_Captain_!"

He turned to me with a quizzical expression. "Yes?" He asked, as though he couldn't possibly fathom what had upset me.

My eyebrows were scrunched on my forehead, and I was prepared to unleash my fury on the pirate. After a pause of common sense, however, the notion passed, and I forced my frustration through my nose, glaring at the rat as I exited the cabin and entered the bright sunlight.

"Touchy, touchy…" I heard him murmuring as I made my way out, so I slammed the thick, wooden door.

With a huff, I leaned against the frame and crossed my arms over my chest.

I had taken only a few, deep breaths when he reappeared outside of the room.

"Well?" I demanded as soon as the door clicked shut.

He jumped slightly, and turned to me with raised eyebrows. "Oh, 'ello, luv," The shock on his expression stretched into a charismatic smile, and I noticed, with strange and ill-timed wonderment, that his hands seemed to be forever suspended in the air in a permanent flourish.

"Well?" I asked again, straightening my dress and doing my best to regain lady-like composure.

"What?" He asked, one eyebrow sinking.

"How is she?" I snapped, all aplomb lost again in an instant.

For a moment (one where I could only gape and wonder how many times he had fallen overboard), he seemed genuinely confused. Then realization seemed to dawn on his face. "O! The boy-lass! Yes, she'll be fine." He flashed me another golden smile and began to saunter down the deck.

I couldn't believe the disregard that he had just waved, so casually, in my face.

"Captain!" I called, gathering up my skirts to follow his jaunty strides. "How dare you…"

"Miss! Will you_ please_ stay in your cabin?" The grey-haired pirate, Gibbs, suddenly sprang up in front of me, quite exasperated. "It's bad enough that we have women aboard! We do _not_ need for them to be flouncing about the deck as though they're on a bloody holiday!"

I felt my cheeks darken in outrage, and my lips pursed—a tell-tale sign that I had had enough.

"A holiday, Mr. Gibbs? You call this a _holiday_?" I shouted. "I do not want to be on this stupid boat anymore than you want me to be! I have had quite enough of your superstitious nonsense! And do you want to know _why_ you filthy pirates _really_ dislike having women aboard, Mr. Gibbs? _Do you_? Well, I'll _tell_ you why! It's because what you all _really_ fear is a little bit of common sense and morality! Now get out of my way!"

With yet another huff, I shoved passed the partially-stunned sea-veteran and made my way to the captain, stomping as I did so.

I found the captain within moments and had to refrain myself from launching at him-- especially when I saw how decidedly unfazed he was by everything.

He was standing behind the helm, humming slightly to himself. The wind was easily blowing through his long, thick dreadlocks, as though it and he were familiar lovers. It blew the beads in his hair around his face like kisses and hugged his tattered, mismatched clothes to his body. The Captain's handling of the wheel, even, was like dancing, for he lazily tossed it from one hand to another. It was clear that he was quite at home on a ship at sea.

My scowl deepened. Perhaps _he_ was, but _I _was _quite_ through with the whole business.

"Captain, if you _please_," I growled as I ascended the steps towards him. "Tell me how my friend fares!"

He shot a quick look at me, and then another, longer one. "Well, darling, I'm not quite sure how to tell you this…"

I felt all of the blood drain from my face, and felt my anger instantly dissipate, as well. I also knew that if my dress were not dirt-covered, my face would match its original, milky color. I bit my lips, slightly, willing them to function. All of the pirates who had been lounging around the captain and I suddenly sensed the unease and quickly found chores to occupy themselves with.

Captain Sparrow stepped away from the wheel and came very, very close. I could see every line in his mustache and every tiny scar on his face, and I wondered, ludicrously, if I looked half as bad to him.

"Lass," He spoke in a very grave manner. "Your friend does seem to have some problems…" He paused and drew a deep breath. "It isn't normal, you see, for young ladies to go around dressed as boys."

"O FOR THE LOVE OF THE VIRGIN MARY!" I hollered, throwing my hands into the air in exasperation. "THE GIRL IS _BLIND_, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE! UH! _GOD_!"

"O, no, luv," He interrupted, smiling candidly. "Call me Jack."

My jaw dropped again, and I wasn't sure whether to be incredulous or angry first.

"Actually," He corrected himself suddenly, and, briefly, I felt a tiny spark of hope. "_Captain_ Jack, if you please."

And the spark was drowned by the ocean.

* * *

All constructive feedback is appreciated :) 

CrimsonSnapDragon


	6. Land, ho!

When we last left Charlotte (Lottie) and Marguerite, the ship of their host, Mr. McCain, had been attacked by pirates, leaving them stranded on a plank of wood in the ocean. They were rescued by the gallant Captain Moreton of the British Navy, only to be attacked AGAIN by MORE pirates! Of course, the leader of the scurvy rogues was none other than the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow. Marguerite, despite her poor condition (caused by heat exhaustion/mild heat stroke), struck a deal with him that, if he delivered them safely home, she would give him the majority of her inheritance and she that she would see to it that her father granted him clemency. Of course, our Marguerite only planned to forge the papers…

Or at least, that was the plan before Marguerite woke up—blinded by heat exhaustion…

* * *

Charlotte's P.O.V.

* * *

I quietly slipped back into the cabin, hoping that Marguerite might have fallen back asleep. I knew that I could go for some sleep; I was completely exhausted and the day had barely reached its midway point. 

I felt, however, as though I were carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. How had my life come to this? How had all this happened? I'd always been such a careful, cautious girl. What had I ever done to deserve such a fate as this—being stuck on a filthy ship full of vermin pirates?

I looked up from my shoes, which in my anxiety I'd unknowingly been studying, when I heard the crash of objects toppling over.

"Damnit all!" Marguerite cursed, having knocked some things off the desk.

"Marguerite, what are you doing!? You should be in bed resting! Your vision is never going to come back if you keep bustling all around!"

She turned her glare in the direction of my voice. "Charlotte, now is _not_ the time to be telling me what to do,"

I took a deep breath to stop the rush of emotions I suddenly felt. "I understand you're frustrated, Marguerite, but we are never going to get anywhere if we…"

"O be quiet," she groused, turning her back on me and reaching out her hands to try and find her way around.

I sighed. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No,"

"Then sit down; I have some bread and cheese here,"

Grasping the footboard, she plopped down at the end of the bed and stared in the direction she knew I was standing.

I walked over and put the cut of bread and cheese in her waiting hands.

Without a word, she placed them in her lap and began the slow process of eating them. I simply stood there a moment, allowing myself to become lost in thought again.

What if we ever did make it back to England? How would Charlotte forge those papers now? Or, before we even reached that point, how would we get to our homes without anyone noticing? What would happen if or when they did?

What if she was still blind several months from now? How would she ever survive society? She had never been popular, but with this handicap, _any_ chances her good name and money might have brought her for marriage were surely gone.

Feeling overwhelmed again, I looked around the suddenly-confining room and decided I couldn't stand another minute in it.

"I'll be outside if you need me,"

She simply nodded and continued eating while I turned on my heel and headed quickly for the door.

I snapped it smartly shut behind me, and immediately leaned my torso as far over the ship rail as it would go, inhaling the strong, salty air. It sharpened my senses a few degrees and pulled stray curls out of the bun I'd attempted to pull them into earlier. I was still dressed in the nightgown that Captain Moreton had lent me what felt like ages ago. That didn't seem to matter, however, and I even welcomed the sun on my back and the breeze that crept under my hem. It danced around my ankles and across the deck. I turned and watched the pirates at work. They were all over the place, swarming the ship like ants. Washing the floor, working with the sails, keeping an eye from the crow's nest, mending, tying knots, cleaning weapons…

I turned again, feeling nauseous at the sight of those glimmering blades.

Suddenly, a shout went up. "Land, ho!"

"Land, did you say?" Asked an inquisitive voice that had virtually materialized behind me.

I jumped in shock and whirled around to face the sturdy profile of the captain.

"Aye, sir! An English colony, I'd wager, sir!"

My heart practically burst from my chest at the word. English? Already, my hopes were soaring.

Sparrow pulled a telescope from within his jacket, extended it, and held it to his eye.

"AHA!" He exclaimed. "Montserrat! Gibbs, tell the crew that we'll be mooring there tonight!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Replied the old pirate from somewhere in the crowd.

Suddenly, he turned his sight on me. "Would I be right in saying, luv, that you would care for a bath and proper change of clothes?"

Whatever I had expected him to say, it certainly had not consisted of anything like that.

"Why…uh…yes," I very eloquently answered.

A fox's grin crossed his face. "Lovely. You'll soon see, lass, that I'm a man of me word,"

And with that, he stalked off and away, leaving me in his wake.

* * *

It was a very short time later that we docked in the harbor of the colony, Montserrat. I had heard of it a few times, mostly when Marguerite's father and mine discussed the state of the trading business. Apparently, it was quite famous for its sugar, among other things, which often had traders stopping in the small cluster of similar islands to visit it. 

What surprised me most, however, was that we had barely moored the ship when a knock sounded on the door. With a quick glance at Marguerite, who had a curious look on her face, I hopped up and opened the door.

Gibbs stood on the other side with two buckets of water.

"It's been warmed some'at fer ya, miss. The captain requires ya to wash up and be ready in a few minutes,"

My brows furrowed together in puzzlement. "Ready for what?"

He shrugged. "I've told ya all I know,"

"Oh. Well, all right, then," I was still confused, but I reached forward for the water, anyways. He left and I pushed the door shut with my toe and poured the water into the room's basin.

"I wonder what this is all about," I murmured to Marguerite.

She shrugged. "He's probably cleaning you up to take you and sell you in a slave market,"

I immediately dropped the rag I'd been holding, mortified. "W-what? Do you really think so?"

"I think," she responded, slowly, lowly, "that you had better not leave this ship without me,"

For a moment I was torn between two reactions to her words. First of all, I was scared out of my mind and completely agreed with her. After some logic had seeped its way under the noise of my heart's pounding, however, I wondered what on Earth effect she could have of saving me from whatever peril awaited me.

"Do you think I shouldn't wash?" I questioned, still needing her expert opinion.

"I think you might as well boost your morale a bit and clean up," She replied.

I nodded, still not fully aware of the fact that she couldn't see it, and continued to freshen my skin and hair. I longed to drop some rose petals into the water, which I thought a bit stale, but of course, such a luxury would be frivolous.

Another heavy knock shook the door in its frame.

Swallowing my apprehensions, I again admitted Gibbs. In his arms, he held a beautiful, blue gown, a delicate pair of slippers, and what appeared to be a small box.

My jaw dropped.

"The men," he explained, "have already returned from town with some things the cap'in ordered fer ya,"

My jaw dropped, and without another word, he piled it all into my hands and shut the door behind him.

"What is it!?" Marguerite demanded.

I stared at the finery in awe. "Marguerite… O, Marguerite! You won't believe this! It's a dress!"

"Come over here with it," She ordered, extending her fingers and feeling the silky material as I brought it to her. "It must be very expensive; it feels it," She observed quietly.

I nodded again, reaching for the matching slippers and setting them aside after a quick, stunned examination. Then I found my own fingers grazing over the lid of the box. Inside was some perfume and jewelry, which also matched perfectly.

"I…I don't understand this, Marguerite. Surely he wouldn't dress me this way to sell me in a slave market?"

"No, nor as a prostitute," She added, rejecting a conclusion I was glad I hadn't known she'd considered.

"So then why only me?" I asked. "Why don't you have one?"

She turned her face towards me with an expression that told me the answer was obvious. I blushed in embarrassment.

"I... O, Marguerite, I'm sorry, I…"

"Enough," She cut me off sharply. "You need to get changed. I don't know what he has planned, but I can't imagine that it will be any better if you keep him waiting,"

* * *

So. Y'all like? I like it 

Next chapter's in progress, luvs!


	7. A Handsome Pirate

Disclaimer: I don't own the Pirates of the Caribbean.

So! I've gotten a lot of questions about when this takes place, and such. Right now, I have absolutely no intention for Will or Elizabeth to be in it. This is sort of a fic about Jack doing his own thing, without them. The only reason I'm going to place it after the movies is because he has the Pearl. If you want to make it a sort of AU-ish fic in your own mind, feel free

* * *

Charlotte's P.O.V.

* * *

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I looked, in a word, beautiful. And I felt it, what's more. It truly is amazing what a fine dress can do for a girl's morale. Marguerite couldn't see the outstanding results for herself, but I knew she sensed my contentment—the happiness I felt over finally being reunited with fine fashion. Sighing in pleasure, I clasped the lovely necklace around my neck, allowing myself to be absorbed in thoughts of happier times.

Marguerite scowled from somewhere outside my cloud. "Charlotte," She groused. "get a hold of yourself,"

My skin prickled at her words and I spun on my heel to face her. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. Get your head out of the clouds before your delirium ruins things. We still don't know why Sparrow gave you that dress and pirates aren't the sort to just hand things out freely."

Then, in deep, hushed tones, she added, "You might as well have sold your soul to the devil to get that dress! …I would have expected you to be the one to realize that,"

My jaw dropped. "Marguerite!" I hissed. "What on Earth has possessed you!?"

"Nothing nearly as blinding as whatever has gotten a hold of you!" She shouted, and I winced at the double edge to her words.

So, she still thought herself the capable one? Layed up in a cabin, with a blindness we could only pray was temporary, and she saw herself as the competent girl, then?

"Perhaps you think I'm delirious, but _you_ are delusional," I snapped.

I only saw her upper lip curl in a snarl before I turned and stalked out of the cabin, slamming the door behind me.

* * *

"Unbelievable!" I grumbled to myself. 

"There ya are, lass!" Exclaimed the now-all-too-familiar voice.

"Good evening, Captain," I muttered as civilly as possible, given my current mood and situation.

"Well?" He demanded. "What do you think?"

I flicked my gaze over in his direction. "Of? I really…o," I did a double take. "Why are you dressed like that?" I asked, stunned.

To my complete amazement, the captain's appearance was completely different. He was wearing a beautifully brocaded jacket over a fine pair of breeches. His shoes were, clearly, of the highest-quality leather, and they glistened and shone under the flickering of the deck's lamps. A fine, perfectly white shirt's ruffles extended from the top of the jacket and flowed from under the generously-cuffed sleeves. Even his wild hair had been tamed. The beads and trinkets had been removed, as well as his characteristic hat and bandana. The sun-dried locks had been combed back into some semblance of a gentleman's style, tied off in back and capped by a new, matching tricorne. Even his mustache had been groomed, although the braided beard remained—sans decoration, however. And, I dare say, he might even have had a bath.

His typical smirk cut across his face as he took in my reaction. "Like what? I don't know what you're talking about, lass,"

I cleared my throat and looked away, but still couldn't help peering out of the corner of my eye.

"In any case," he continued, crossing the few strides between us. "You look absolutely ravishing, Miss Clare,"

He picked up my hand a laid a kiss on it. I snatched my arm back to my side.

He chuckled. "You shouldn't be so hostile, darling. We are, after all, married."

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I have the next chapter written, so please leave a review :)


	8. If You Get a Chance, Take It

Disclaimer: I don't own the Pirates of the Caribbean.

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Charlotte's P.O.V.

* * *

He chuckled. "You shouldn't be so hostile, darling. We are, after all, married."

My stomach leapt into my throat and my heart ceased beating.

"I…excuse me!?" I half-screamed, throwing myself away from him.

That hated smirk grew even larger. "Something wrong, lass?"

I couldn't reply; my jaw wouldn't move from its position on the floor.

He moved closer, grinning at me still. I took several steps back.

"Don't you dare…" I seethed, until my back hit the rail.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw that I was stuck between the churning depths and a mad pirate.

I felt his fingers on my chin as he redirected my gaze towards his face. "Darling," he murmured, clearly relishing the moment. "you worry too much,"

I slapped his hand away from me.

He chuckled and allowed a tense moment to grow between us. Then, without warning, he grabbed me and tossed me over his shoulder.

"Put me down! LET GO OF ME!" I screamed.

"Not until you listen to reason, luv!"

"YOU listen to reason! This is a breach of contract! You agreed never to…"

I was cut off as he flung me onto the stairs. He put both his hands on the step above me, near my head, and leaned in, effectively cutting off any possible escape routes.

"First of all, _Miss_ Charlotte, I am a _pirate_. If you expect nothing but good intentions from me, you're even more misguided than your pretty little lace dress lets on," he rumbled into my ear, fingering the lace around the low, squared collar of my gown. I flinched, but he continued on. "Secondly, I have not breached any contract with you, lass. I said I would bring you home to your beloved England, aye, but I never said we wouldn't make any stops along the way. What's more, I've kept up my end in providing you with your 'new apparel' and 'suitable quarters.' Still, I find the eight thousands pounds I'll be receiving to be a bit lacking, and I believe it necessary to rectify that. After all, you gentlewomen couldn't possibly believe that a mere eight thousand pounds could cover the cost and inconvenience of escorting you, could you? And what if you lasses choose not to keep up _your_ end of the bargain? All chances I can't take, luv. Savvy?"

I swallowed, trying to keep my eyes down. "C-Captain…"

Okay, so maybe Marguerite still was the more capable of the two of us. She would know exactly what to do in this situation!

"Captain Sparrow, I fail to s-see how _marrying_ me is going to…"

He let out a boom of laughter before I could finish. "Still haven't caught on then, darling?" He stood up straight and extended his hand to me. I eyed it warily, but when it didn't move, I reluctantly took it.

"Do I actually strike you as the marrying sort?" He scoffed.

"I…well, no…"

"Allow me to explain things to you then, lass. There lives here in Montserrat a very wealthy English cockerel named Lord Aldon. Now, I am of the opinion, my dear, that he has far too much money, and I feel it would be most charitable of us to relieve him of some of the strain it undeniably causes,"

I gasped, but he continued as though he never heard me. "Normally, luv, it would be my intention to somehow pillage, plunder, or otherwise sneakily pilfer the wealth by more physical means. But indeed, I am an old acquaintance of opportunity and I see it has arrived in you,"

"_Captain_! I am _not_ going to help you _steal_!"

"O, but you are, luv. I won't risk going up against the man's personal army, so you and I are going to get in under more…quiet, astucious terms… "

"NO!" I shoved him away from me with all the force I could muster, though I suspect that the step back he took was merely for his own twisted amusement.

"O, yes, darling, and you're going to do it in a most cooperative fashion. Else," he snatched me wrists and pinned me in place, "you'll find that I am not always so charming. Remember, lass, I'm a _pirate_,"

* * *

I stumbled back into the cabin, sniffling and trying to curtail the flow of tears before they even started.

Wretched pirates! Wretched ships!

A sob escaped my lips as I collapsed into the desk chair.

"Charlotte?" Marguerite called.

"O, Marguerite!" I exclaimed. "It's terrible!"

She swung her feet around, off the bed, and staggered towards me. "What!? What is it!?"

I met her halfway, grabbing her hands desperately, "He wants me to help him steal, Marguerite! He wants to rob some poor gentleman! He has the two of us all fancied up and I can't figure out why! All I know is that he's going to use me to take from this Lord Aldon!"

"What!?" She gasped.

I nodded, nearly hysterical. "O, God, Marguerite, what do I do? I couldn't possibly… I…"

"Not just that," she muttered, "but if you do, you'll be a wanted woman; there'll be no point in us going back to England!"

I froze instantly, horrified. No…going back?

"NO!" I screamed, breaking away from Marguerite and running for the door.

She must have anticipated me, however, because I suddenly felt a strong hand reach out and latch around my arm, though the grasp was slightly unsure in its blindness.

"Charlotte, get a hold of yourself!" She snapped.

I struggled in her iron grip, panting in my panic.

"ENOUGH!" She thundered.

I forced myself to become still, though I continued to tremble.

"Now you listen to me, Charlotte Clare. You are a very intelligent girl and you can work this to your advantage. You get this Lord Aldon alone somehow and you tell him how you've been kidnapped. If he has any sort of honor to match his title and money, he'll recognize a lady in despair and he'll help you,"

"Marguerite, even if I do manage to convince him I'm in need, how will he get rid of Sparrow?"

"There must be some reason, Lottie, why Sparrow's not just charging in with guns blazing. He doesn't strike me as the subtle type,"

"Well," I murmured, thinking, "he did say that Lord Aldon has a personal army…"

"Aha!" She exclaimed. "There you have it, then! If you can get away from him, Charlotte, you'll be home-free—literally! Sparrow won't face Aldon's personal defenses!"

I bit my lip, mulling over what she said. Just get Lord Aldon alone… He'd see how I was being used in this devious ploy, his money would be saved, and, more importantly, _I'd_ be saved!

I suddenly faltered on the thought.

"But…Marguerite…what about you?"

She sighed. "Charlotte, I'm not much use to anybody, anyways. If you see an opening out of this, take it, do you understand me?"

"I can't leave you behind!" I exclaimed, mortified at the thought of leaving her here with these vermin…at the thought of being on my own…

"Be quiet!" She flared. "You get out of this, Lottie. You escape by any means necessary and you _get home_. Promise me that you will!"

"But I…"

"SWEAR IT!"

"I…I…"

She stepped closer to me and roughly grabbed my shoulders. "Swear. It."

"I…I swear it,"

"Good," she sighed, stepping back and deflating.

I extended a hand, trying to think of some way to comfort her, to save the situation, when the door clanged open.

"Are you ready, o dearest heart of mine?" Called that loathsome voice.

I flinched. Marguerite scowled.

"Jack Sparrow," she spat, "if you harm Charlotte in any way, I swear to God I'll…"

"Miss DeLacy," he interrupted. "to be most frank, you are _hardly_ in any position to be giving me orders. As I've already explained to your lovely friend, I am not breaking our precious contract. Therefore, luv, I highly suggest that you look to your own interests and worry about getting that eyesight of yours back. In the meantime, my wife and I have a dinner to attend,"

"Your wife!?" She hissed.

"O, didn't you hear the happy news?"

"It's not true, Marguerite," I hurriedly explained, "it's something to do with this plan of his,"

"Indeed it is, luv! Now come, let's not keep Lord Aldon waiting! I wager it wouldn't be a very noble thing to do, and all that…"

With that, he placed his hand on my lower back and forced me out of the cabin.

I looked over my shoulder at Marguerite. The look on her face was one I'll never forget. Anger, at being so manipulated by a pirate. Fear and worry, for me. And fury, at her own helplessness.

Her body was suspended in indecision, as she tried to figure out how to save me when she herself was so useless.

The door shut firmly behind me, cutting off my view.

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